1.  Big Boys

2.  New Boys

3.  Hello Boys

The Rat Man says we can ring him if we find any more bodies, and he will come and clear them up.  This is a Good Thing, as The Man has left on another Business Trip. Unfortunately, The Man cannot remember which Rat Man we are using.  He found him in the Yellow Pages, he’s very nice, and he’s been back in his discreet, unmarked van to check his boxes and put more toxic waste in them.  But frankly I’d tolerate a van saying THIS HOUSE HAS RATS with a big arrow pointing at us if  it meant his mobile number was stencilled on the side as well.   The Man left at 3am, so yet again I am wandering around like a zombie.  Son 1 aged 5y 1m ended up in the Big Bed, and came down shortly after I got up.  He used to flit around like a little wraith.  He now sounds like a team of rugby players coming down the stairs. It was slightly spooky listening to him… knowing there was no other adult in the house and yet hearing great clunking footsteps powering down. And then a little figure in Lightning McQueen pyjamas pads in, holding his willy and rubbing his eyes. 

I had to go to The City, which is the best part of a two-hour drive away. When I’d finished, I went into The Shopping Centre, because I’d promised Son 1 I’d go to the Disney Shop to look for squirty toys to take on holiday.  And then… Hold The Front Page, Don’t Faint, Shoot Me Down In Flames… they had a set of Peter Pan figures.  Including The Children and The Dog.  This is an Excellent Thing.  I have spent hours on the internet, trying to find the children for Son 1. I have trailed around Disney Shops (Oxford Street: “Yes we’ve got them upstairs because they’re not very popular.” 20 mins later: “Sorry we’ve sold out.”)  We have plastic Peters in several sizes, a finger puppet Peter and Wendy, three or four Captain Hooks, a fair few crocodiles, several handfuls of  Indians and Lost Boys and pirates, pirates everywhere.   Son 1’s Peter Pan obsession began with a charity shop Disney book I bought for 49p in Feb 2007. He got his first Peter Pan things the following Christmas, and he has longed for John and Michael ever since.  So what I’m saying is, yes I bought him yet another toy.  No, I haven’t thrown out/sorted out any of his old ones. And yes, Son 2 aged 2y 1m had to have a Nemo squirty toy bath set to be fair. 

There were comments about more presents from Granny and Grandad, who were waiting with the boys because I was way too late for Wonder Nanny.  Never mind. The Best Thing today was The New Swimming Costume. Not the one I wanted, not one I would have picked out… but it’s slimming, it fits nicely and it was in the sale.  I was excited for a few minutes because the label said 14E.  In better light, I realised that was the Australian sizing. I’d been worried I was stuck with the skanky baggy swimsuit for the holiday. I got put off the Bravissimo website because I needed to think of a password. (Really sorry, can’t. Got a pile of passwords to remember anyway, and a head so full of Other Stuff that not one more fact can be jemmied in. )  I tried another website. Ordered a beautiful costume on Wednesday. Ticked the box for faster postage to beat the strikes. And got an email saying they’re not expecting them in till next week. Today really was my Last Chance.  I don’t think I’ve worn a halter neck in my life but Granny thinks it’s great.

1.  Assumptions

2.  Avalanche

3.  Aquabatics

I didn’t see the children yesterday. I went out before they were up, and didn’t get back till way after they were in bed asleep.

“Apparently,” said Son 1 aged 4y 11m over breakfast this morning, “everyone in Reception can read except me.” Cannon ball blast through stomach moment. Many moons ago, linguistics was part of my degree, and I have Strong Views about teaching young children to read.  Forget it. Unless they are hanging on your leg and bashing a book against your knee eveytime you see them, concentrate on helping them speak well instead. Son 1 can read and write his name. Weren’t me, guv. Wonder Nanny?  Nursery?  No idea.  And so. If he had picked up the book called “How To Skewer Mummy Right In The Know-It-all-Assumptions” he couldn’t have chosen a better line. I questioned him.  He named two children. One a boy who has an older sister. Second children. Always learn faster. The other a child from Nursery whose parents sent him elsewhere.  A little prodigy who could swim, climb, run, write, draw and talk better than anyone else, and who is probably on his sixth or seventh symphony by now. Way out of our league.  So I worried for a few minutes, but then Looked On The Bright Side, and decided that any four year old who can use “apparently” correctly is going to be All Right.

After The Man has taken Son 1 to school, I left Son 2 aged 2 upstairs watching Chitty Chitty Bang Bang while I put washing on, hoovered, tidied up, ate breakfast, had a little read of the paper and rang a few friends.   I discussed reading, parties, starting school, birthday teas, and had a very nice time.”I do have to go,” I told the last one. “I’ve left Son 2 on his own upstairs for ages and I really must check on him.” I ended that call and then thought I’d quickly ring  a Wednesday mum while I was going upstairs. I dialled the number and there was a massive thump, a wail, then another thump, then a silence and then a loud, terrified howl.  Son 2 was lying about three foot from the bottom of the stairs, face down and crying so hard he could barely breathe. Cuddles. Ibuprofen. Chocolate buttons.  He was ok. I rang a friend to tell her what happened.

We walked over to the Beach By The Garden to meet the Wednesday Friends. All the big boys are now in school.  Son 2 slept on the way over.  We dug, we went to the sea to get him water, we had ice lollies. Another lovely day - less wind than on Friday, but still with a mighty sea swell.  I dug two big sandcastles.  Son 2 trashed them, depending on which one I was building.  A Wednesday Mum dug a big levee and a massive hole for when the tide came in, so the boys could sit in it when the water rushed round.  I swam in the sea. I’m getting faster at going in. Or maybe the water’s warmer. There were a few set, grey hairdos and one bald head bobbing up and down.  Mmmm.  Clearly I am Yoof discovering something that old ladies do. It was fantastic. I prefer it flatter, but I swam out past the big breakers and let the current take me along parallel to the shore, then swam back against it and headed diagonally back in. It was wonderful. Reacting to the power of the water, enjoying breathtaking scenery, touching nature.  The Man had stopped off during his lunch break.  I came out of the water smiling. “Look at the state of your swimming costume,” he said. “It’s disgusting.  Chuck it. I’m throwing it out tonight.”  Just been washed a few too many times, that’s all. Oh dear, if he’s noticed I shall have to find a new one.   Who knows where I can get a forgiving, flattering one-piece that doesn’t automatically admit me to the grey-hair-bobbing-in-the-sea club?  And that also has plenty of space in the bodice.